


The abyss staring back

by GreenPhoenix



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/pseuds/GreenPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pierce Taylor is trying to stop Keller, but sometimes the abyss stares back at us. Set in seasons four to six. Ending with season 6 AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The abyss staring back

Pierce Taylor woke in a sweat. That was the third time this week he’d dreamt about Chris Keller.  
Some dream, too.  
Keller was fucking him, hard and deep and he was loving every second. Fuck, he hated Keller. He wanted to nail him for those murders.  
But ever since he met Keller he had those fucking dreams.  
*

He’d been working the Carachi case for months, finally getting a break when a witness came forward. Mark Carachi’s parents were beside themselves with grief. His boyfriend had tried to kill himself, and was now at an institution.   
He had to bring this murderer, this cold-blooded psychopath to justice.  
Had to make him fry for what he did so the family could have peace at last.  
Once he’d wanted the same for the man who killed his own sister Nancy when she was just eighteen. But the man was never caught.  
He’d chosen a career based on the need to avenge Nancy, or at least stop others from feeling the pain his family felt over her.  
His job was his life, as two ex-wives could testify to.  
Funny that was one thing he had in common with Keller. Only one thing.

*  
Taylor stared at the casefile for Tobias Beecher, Keller’s lover and the one he hoped he could crack.  
He’d question Beecher about the Barlog murder next.  
Ronnie Barlog, small time crook and not a very bright guy.  
He’d probably told Keller about the deal he’d been looking to make. Or maybe just Beecher. He was an ex-lawyer and seemed to have brains even if Oz had probably scrambled them. Oz and Chris Keller.  
Beecher had been involved in several violent incidents, but they all seemed to be a way of standing up to people who were looking to hurt him. Rebelling against his former master Vern Schillinger was hardly unprovoked violence. Robson had tried to force him to perform oral sex, and he’d taken a healthy chunk of Robson’s dick as a means of striking back.   
Beecher was friendly with the Muslim leader Said. That seemed to indicate an interest in spiritual issues.  
How had Keller gotten to him?  
Taylor thought he knew.  
By sheer force of his charismatic and dominant personality. By giving a man starved for affection seeming friendship and love. And then he’d won him back after breaking him. Just because he could.  
Keller was one of the worst monsters Taylor had ever met.  
*

Beecher was very pale in the interrogation room; he had some marks on his neck that seemed to be made by teeth. He did nothing to hide them.  
“Did Keller kill Barlog?”  
“No,” said Beecher without flinching.  
“Keller really broke you,” said Taylor.  
“There is nothing left to break,” said Beecher and laughed bitterly.  
“Did you fuck Barlog?”  
“It’s prison. It happens.”  
“Did he love you?”  
Beecher laughed.  
“No, then. Did he love Keller?”  
“We all love Keller. We’re all his bitches.”  
“Do you know anyone who might want to harm Ronnie who wasn’t Keller?”  
“It’s prison. Anybody can die for any reason.”  
“What Keller does to you..it’s not right.”  
“How would you know?” asked Beecher.  
“Nobody deserves to be manipulated like that.”  
“So what are you trying to do? Aren’t you trying to manipulate me to by trying to be friendly or threatening when it seems like the right time?”  
“I’m only trying to get you to tell the truth.”  
“That’s your version.”  
Beecher wasn’t about to break, he was already broken.  
He lied to protect his man. Just like a good prison wife should.

*  
Taylor had another dream. He wished he didn’t have them.  
He saw Keller screw Beecher with a noose around his neck. What a way to go if you did.  
Taylor had once asked his first wife Kimberly to tie a silk scarf around his neck while they were making love.  
Of course it didn’t feel right for her, and they stopped doing it.  
Taylor paid a call girl to do it for him instead.  
She was a class act, blonde like a Hitchcock female lead, and with the sophisticated air of a Grace Kelly clone. He felt less guilty since she didn’t seem trashy.  
But Kim still found out about her and left.   
Partly for that, and maybe mostly for the many nights when he was on the job and never called to say he was okay.   
Kim was pregnant when she left, and she would raise their precious daughter alone.  
*  
Taylor tried to shake the dream off, but he kept flashing back to the bite marks on Beecher’s pale skin. He knew Keller’s strong teeth had caused those marks in the height of his bestial passion.  
Fucking, not making love.  
You made love to women, they were fragile and needed to be coddled and protected.  
You fucked other men, giving as good as you got, struggling for dominance.  
Losing yourself in complete abandon.  
Taylor realized he was thinking like Keller now, not himself.  
He had dark desires, all men did, but his were not like Keller’s.  
He was a servant of a higher good, not an emissary of Lucifer.  
*  
“Didn’t get Beech to talk did ya,?” said Keller and slumped back in the chair.  
“No,” said Taylor. “You trained him well. He’s a good little wife isn’t he?”

“He’s my lover,” said Keller and sounded affectionate.  
Did he have feelings for Beecher, or was it an act?  
Still, he had killed his old mate Ronnie but not Beecher, despite the fact that Beecher had been unfaithful all over Oz.  
Keller did love him, or thought he did.  
“Is he now?” said Taylor.  
“You know he’s getting it good from me,” leered Keller. “Every night I’m fucking him good, and he loves it.”  
“If you’re so good, why did you kill those men?”  
“ I didn’t,” said Keller. He could beat a polygraph test easily.  
“Maybe they represented something you hated about yourself,” said Taylor.  
Keller laughed.  
“You’re not gay right?” said Taylor. “You’re a real man.”  
“Like you, huh?” said Keller.  
“Slippery aren’t you.”  
“You can’t bait me, Taylor,” said Keller.  
Taylor saw a mark on his neck, like a bite. Beecher did that. Maybe he wasn’t such a pussy after all. He had put Schillinger’s eye out and taken a dump on him after all.  
“Maybe you’re the bitch,” said Taylor.  
“What?”  
“You’re nuts about Beecher. You’d do anything for him. Aren’t you his bitch Keller?”  
Keller said nothing, but his eyes were cold.  
“You do what he wants you to. Here I was thinking you were playing him like a cheap fiddle. Maybe you’re rich boy’s piece of prison rough. Fulfilling his repressed fantasies of getting fucked by the hired hand.”  
“You could write books with that imagination agent,” said Keller.  
“Yeah. Maybe I should.”  
He was getting nowhere with Keller. He wanted to hurt him, hit him hard, but that would get him suspended or worse.  
He knew he’d hit a nerve at least; Beecher was special to Keller. Their bond was deeper and more complex than he’d thought.

*  
He went to a club. There was a gorgeous blonde woman who winked at him, and he took her home.  
She tied him up with silk scarves, and beat him with a hairbrush as he asked her to.  
She was giggling, which took the intensity out of it.  
Next time he’d get a pro to do it.  
Not some giggly drunk businesswoman looking for kicks.  
He made love to her, and called her “baby”.  
*  
The latest dream was weird. He was chained to a wall, watching Keller screw Beecher in a large bed. He could hear the grunts Keller made as he thrust deeply into Beecher who was on his knees on the bed. Keller was giving it to him hard, and the sweat on their bodies was so tangible he could still smell it.  
The scent of that room in his dream was too real, the musky scent of sex, and the acid taste of his own fear.  
Dream Keller fucked Beecher into oblivion, and came hard into his pale body.   
Keller kissed his lover’s neck and produced a knife from thin air.  
Taylor expected him to kill Beecher, but he slit Taylor’s throat instead.  
While Taylor felt himself bleed out, Keller jerked off and came over his convulsing body.  
He saw his own dead body desecrated by Keller.  
Fuck, he had to get that asshole.  
But Beecher sure wasn’t talking; even though he knew that Keller had killed those guys and Ronnie Barlog. He was in Keller’s seductive thrall.   
Taylor was caught in the same nightmare, with no hope of release.  
Only Keller found his release in easeful death.  
The death of others. Innocents.   
He was an angel of death, and Taylor was just a man.

*  
He gave Beecher a final offer, parole if he’d tell on Keller.  
Beecher could hardly resist, he’d give anything to be with his kids.  
“So,” he said. “Will you give him up at last.”  
“No,” said Beecher.  
“Are you sure? I’m offering you freedom and you won’t give up your psycho lover.”  
“Are you? Are you really?”  
“It’s a one time deal. “   
“I can’t. I love him.”  
Taylor thought Keller was the dominant partner now.  
“You could get him to confess. For the good of his soul.”  
“It’s already lost,” said Beecher sadly.  
There was a small hickey on his neck.  
Like a rose.

*  
Taylor heard of Schillinger’s death. Beecher was lost to him as a witness anyway.  
Someone had sent a bomb to the Aryan mail crew, and they all died.  
Keller and his lover had a fight, but it ended with them both in the hole, not in death.  
Keller lived, and he was beyond Taylor’s reach.  
His daughter told him to let go, but he could not.  
Beecher was broken, but Keller was the glue that held him together.  
Taylor knew he had failed. He could not reach those two, no matter how hard he tried.  
He had stared at the abyss, and it had Keller’s face.  
He was one of the lost now. There would be no justice for those innocents who had died, and not for the guilty Keller had slain either.

*  
Taylor went to a club.  
“I need a man,” he said to the bejeweled drag queen at the bar.  
“Don’t we all honey,” she said.  
“Someone tall, dark and cruel.”  
“Sounds like my ex,” she said.  
“Can I get his number?”  
“You that desperate hon?”  
“Guess so. I need someone to hurt me.”  
“They all do in the end,” said the queen and smiled sadly.  
Taylor nodded and went to find someone to pick up.  
*  
He went home with a guy who had strong hands, but it didn’t hurt enough when the guy fucked him. He didn’t have cruel eyes or the allure of Keller. But he would do.  
He would have to.  
Taylor fucked him angrily, and came while thinking of Beecher’s blue eyes.  
The guy told him to leave, and never to come back.  
He knew he’d lost his way. He’d almost hurt an innocent just for kicks. That was what Keller always did. How far along was he?   
The abyss was staring right back at him, and he had lost his way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dr squidlove for suggesting I expand a drabble to something longer about this.


End file.
